


dream this night away

by stormss



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 00:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormss/pseuds/stormss
Summary: "Well, I love you. That part's real." Eliot pauses, and the words wash over Quentin in waves. "It isn't even a question, Q. Of course I love you."Eliot's words are murmured against Quentin's shoulder, and he presses a lazy kiss to the freckled skin there before burrowing deeper under the covers. He should ignore it, move on, continue to let sleep reel him back in but Quentin is drawn to those two words:of course,like it was an unquestionable, obvious fact.





	dream this night away

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! 
> 
> i'm slowly cleaning out my drafts and this idea continued to stick out to me so!! here we are!! this basically ignores canon and only vaguely alludes to some monster-related stuff in s4.
> 
> the title is from _harvest moon_ by neil young.

There's an undeniable healing power in actually getting rest. 

It's what everyone told them when they got Eliot back — that he'd need sleep, they both would, in order to heal from the world-saving bullshit they'd been through for the past few years. And so, after, when things have settled enough, Kady finds a countryside Airbnb with enough space for them to both do fuck-all and relax while also slowly getting back into the groove of magic in a newly overpowered world. And without hesitation, and a deep desire to leave the lingering traumatic memories of the penthouse, Penny brings them to the farmhouse for a much needed break. 

Eliot still walks with a limp, and the monster's hold on him leaves him still looking hollow. But he's improving with every passing day, and Margo manages to portal back from Fillory every few days so they can all catch up. (And also because Margo can't stand the reality of not being able to constantly be there for her El, even if she won't outright admit it). At nights the group comes together around the stone fireplace and they conjure up food from their favourite takeout in New York, or they'll scrounge up the energy to grill over the flame if Josh is around. The conversation will ebb and flow around them, comfortably lounging around and always remaining physically in contact with one another. 

And, of course, they sleep. 

Quentin never would've pushed his and Eliot's relationship, and he still hasn't really brought the subject up. But back when they were still in the penthouse and were left alone for long stretches of time, sleeping in the same bed became a point of comfort for both of them, in an attempt to feel human closeness and escape the shadows of nightmares. It didn't start under the best conditions, however, since Eliot had come to his room late one night, and cracked open the door, and Quentin could recognize the strained look of Eliot holding back tears. There had been a silence, and then: 

"I just need to be with you tonight, Q." 

That was that, really. The orange-yellow of the lamp warmed the room up, and made it feel more lived-in and worn than it did under the harsh, bright daylight. And with Eliot curled up next to him, without the air of casual coolness that he'd always worn like a designer vest, he was small in ways Quentin had never seen. He had smelt like stale smoke but something more, something floral. His fingers had been shaking, pulling at the loose threads of his robe. He was strong, and resilient, but he needed to slow down and rest and eventually they found that they couldn't do that apart. 

It doesn't change when they get to the farmhouse. And their closeness continues to be an unspoken thing. 

They claim the room on the attic-floor, all sharp angles and slanted windowpanes that let in warm morning light that washed them in gold. The bed is close to the floor and they slowly make it their own, for the time they have it: small trinkets are strewn over any available space, and Eliot's rings fill up a small hand-made dish left for their use. Quentin's books are stacked under the window, and it feels like a home they aren't supposed to remember. It's day thirteen in their small room and Quentin wakes up first, trapped under the weight of Eliot's arm thrown over his chest; he cranes his neck and flings his arm over to the oak nightstand and finds his phone to check the time, and when he sees _10:02 _he knows that they should probably get up and seize the day or follow whatever optimistic mantra they were trying to live by but _fuck _he doesn't have it in him to wake up Eliot, who is finally sleeping through the night and looks so at ease with his curls falling gently against his forehead. 

But it turns out he doesn't really have to worry about it. 

"Q," Eliot half-whines, voice hoarse with sleep. "It's too early." 

"I know." Quentin says, settling further against the pillows. "Go back to sleep." 

Eliot hums and blinks open his eyes, and Quentin stares up at the ceiling, watching the dust motes shimmer in the morning sunlight, before turning his gaze back to Eliot — who's already looking at him. "What did you dream about?" 

It's become a teasing morning ritual: who can outshine the other's dreams? They could go on for hours some mornings, when they had no pressing plans set in place and had the chance to just _be. _The corner of Quentin's mouth turns up in a smile. 

"Fillory." 

The dream had been one of many that had Fillory as the magical backdrop; sometimes his dreamscape reminds him of the other moments of the quest, like doing research in the vast library in Castle Whitespire or eating delicacies with Margo and Fen. But his dreams always come back to Eliot, and their cottage, and the happiness of their life together. 

"It was so beautiful, and it makes me wonder how real it was, you know?" Quentin grabs Eliot's hand, the one mindlessly tapping against his stomach. Eliot pulls him closer, his face still soft with sleep, and he makes a noise of distress at Quentin's comment. He quickly backtracks with: "I mean, I know it was real, but I wish _we _could've felt more of it. That happiness, you could almost taste it." 

"Well, I love you. That part's real." Eliot pauses, and the words wash over Quentin in waves. "It isn't even a question, Q. Of course I love you."

Eliot's words are murmured against Quentin's shoulder, and he presses a lazy kiss to the freckled skin there before burrowing deeper under the covers. He should ignore it, move on, continue to let sleep reel him back in but Quentin is drawn to those two words: _of course_, like it was an unquestionable, obvious fact. 

Quentin loves Eliot stupid; he loves him like he's the light at the end of the tunnel. They work together like it's muscle memory, timelines and timelines of soulmate-shit imprinting deep in their cores. And to hear that those feelings are reciprocated, for real, leaves him feeling _whole_, somehow. 

"I love you, too, El. Always have." Quentin whispers, and Eliot's smile reaches his eyes. "Want to stop being afraid of being all in?" 

"Thought you'd never ask, Coldwater." Eliot playfully grins, a small laugh catching in the back of his throat as Quentin's eyes widen. 

"Fuck off," Quentin huffs with a laugh, before closing the distance between them and pressing a hand to the curve of Eliot's jaw and kissing him. The bout of bravery this early surprises him, but when El's long fingers curl into the slowly growing ends of Q's hair to deepen the kiss, he knows it's worth it. Quentin keeps pushing forward, but when Eliot winces ever so slightly, he pulls back and smooths his hand over El's hair and instead presses a kiss to his temple, which leaves them both smiling. Later, they'll make their way to the kitchen and make some tea; they'll pick at muffins and chat with Jules and they'll continue to heal. 

And Quentin will come to realize that no matter what, everything they've been through was worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this short little thing!! comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!!
> 
> my [ tumblr! ](http://lizzogay.tumblr.com/)


End file.
